Inheritance by Simon Brown Read Free Book Online Page B

Majesty,” Kumul replied, his face as impassive as it had been when he was being publicly berated. He looked around the room. “Do you see them all, Lynan?”
    “See all the what?”
    “All the newcomers. See, over there, new staff for Aman’s commission in Kendra.” Lynan saw a trio of heavily bearded gentlemen wearing long hide coats. They looked like smaller versions of Orkid. “And over there, old Duke Petra, back from his retirement on the Lurisia coast. Next to him are representatives of Hume’s merchant navy; they came with Berayma.” Kumul pointed to a group of men and women dressed in leather jerkins and breeches. “Mercenary commanders, from all over the kingdom, come to sell then-services as bodyguards, or worse.”
    “This is what you were talking about last night,” Lynan said. “About the scavengers gathering for the feast.”
    Kumul nodded. “They can hardly wait for the queen to pass on so that they can press their claims with a new and untried king.”
    “Berayma will not be so easily swayed, I think.”
    “No. He has made his friends within the Twenty Houses. The old aristocracy welcomes him with open arms. Milgrom Kolls was, after all, one of them, and pushed on the queen in exchange for their support in the early days of her reign.”
    As the son of the man the members of the Twenty Houses hated so much, and now a victim of their spite as well, Lynan sympathized with Kumul’s concerns. “They would have applauded last night if those thieves had been successful.”
    “Thieves?” Kumul looked at him in wonder. “Even you could not be so naive.”
    Lynan felt a twinge of anger. Surely no one, not even among those in the Twenty Houses who hated him the most, would arrange for him to be killed. The risks of being found out would be too great. He looked around the room again. Perhaps the risk might be worth it if there would soon be a succession.
    “Are you certain?” Lynan could not help the tingle that traveled down his spine, and he glanced nervously over one shoulder and then the other.
    “Not yet. I have my people working on it. But there are others who would see you out of the way, even if they hold no personal animosity toward you. Assassinating a prince, even a prince as lowly as yourself, must unsettle your mother, and that would serve to unsettle the kingdom. This is why you must not leave the palace at night by yourself. Whoever tried to have you killed last evening may try again.”
    As soon as the throne room had cleared, the members of the court returning to their offices, guild halls, or commissions, Kumul returned to his quarters to check on Ager’s progress.
    The crookback was sitting up in bed and gulping broth from a huge mug. Kumul was surprised to see how well his friend looked. Ager put down the mug and offered him a huge smile, his single gray eye twinkling.
    “I did not expect to see you awake so soon,” Kumul said.
    “And last night I did not expect to ever wake up again,” Ager replied. He turned aside and lifted the nightshirt to show Kumul his wound. It was nothing more than a raised white scar. “How did this happen?”
    “The queen herself performed this service for you.”
    Ager swallowed. “Usharna? Here, in this room with me?” Kumul nodded. “What did she do?”
    “She used the Key of the Heart,” Kumul said, his voice subdued.
    “On me? But why?”
    “Have you already forgotten the youth who was the cause of all our trouble last night?”
    Ager frowned in thought. “Of course I remember him. He was asking all those questions about the battle of Deep River…” His voice faded away, and his gaze lifted to Kumul. “There was something about him… I dreamed it last night in my fever. His face turned into the general’s face, and I thought…”
    “You still haven’t put it together, have you?”
    Ager’s frown grew deeper. “I thought I had, but I can barely remember all that happened after I was knifed. The youth was called